Fatal Series 00 - Fatal Destiny

scumbag.”
    “You won’t get any argument from me on that. So you’ll think about what I said?”
    Freddie nodded. “Thank you.”
    “Tell you what. I’ll let Shelby know you’re coming with a guest—just in case.”
    “But what if—”
    Sam rested her hand on his arm. “Either way, it’s fine. With or without. It’s up to you.” She glanced at the dilapidated row houses. “Let’s talk to Gardner.”
    As they approached the house, Sam noticed it was the best-looking place on the run-down block. It boasted a fresh coat of white paint and bushes rather than the trash that collected in front of the neighboring houses.
    “Nice place,” Freddie said. “For this neighborhood.”
    “What do you want?”
    Sam looked up to the second-floor window where Gardner had a gun trained on them. “Fuck,” she muttered. Through the window Gardner had cracked open, Sam heard a baby begin to cry. The sound sent a cold chill down her spine as she reached for her weapon.
    “ What do you want? ”
    Sam flashed her badge. “We’d like to speak to you about an incident two years ago.” Sam made an effort to keep her voice calm. “December of 2008.”
    “What incident?”
    “Shooting on G Street. A cop was hit.”
    “I don’t know nothing about that.”
    “You once lived in a house owned by Gerald Price?” Sam rattled off the address.
    “Yeah, so?”
    The baby’s cries were getting louder, which ramped up Sam’s anxiety. “We found items in the house referring to the shooting. Newspaper clippings, reports, photos.”
    “What’s that got to do with me?”
    “Where were you on December 28, 2008?”
    He released a harsh laugh. “You expect me to know that off the top of my head? Fuckin’ cops. Get the hell out of here. I got nothing to say to you.”
    Sam swallowed hard and tried to forget about the threats this man had made toward Faith Miller as well as the pictures of his battered rape victim. “I need you to tell me where you were that day.”
    “And I need you to get the fuck off my property before I get pissed.”
    “We can continue this conversation downtown.”
    “Sam…”
    She waved Freddie off. “What’s it going to be Mr. Gardner? Here or downtown?”
    A shot rang out. Before Sam could register that he’d actually shot at them, she was flying through the air. She landed under Freddie in the next yard over from Gardner’s place. In the second before her head made contact with a large rock, Sam had the wherewithal to realize that Nick was going to be really mad when he heard about this.
    Then everything went black.

Chapter 8
    Sam battled her way through the fog of pain and confusion to discover she was in the back of an ambulance. “Freddie,” she said as the events at Gardner’s house came rushing back to her. “Where’s Cruz?”
    The paramedic put his hands on her shoulders to stop her from sitting up. “Detective Cruz stayed at the scene to deal with the shooter.”
    Sam’s tongue felt too big for her mouth. “Tell me he’s not there alone.”
    “The place is crawling with cops. Don’t worry.”
    “We get Gardner?”
    “Your partner was quite the hero. He dragged you to safety and called for backup. SWAT got Gardner.”
    “Jeez. How long was I out?”
    “Twenty-five minutes.”
    “Shit.” The pain radiating from her head suddenly had her full attention. “There was a baby in the house. I heard a baby crying.”
    “Social services is on it.”
    “Need my phone.” She squirmed on the gurney, trying to get her phone from her coat pocket. Her head pounded and her stomach surged with nausea. “Shit, did I lose it?”
    “Lieutenant, you need to stay still. You could have a concussion.”
    Having suffered a concussion in the car accident a few short weeks ago, Sam could’ve diagnosed that herself. Nick would be seriously pissed. “I really need a phone. I swear I won’t move if you let me borrow yours.” She had once promised Nick she’d call him the minute she could any time something crazy happened at work. Unfortunately, she’d had to keep that promise far more often than either of them liked.
    Uttering a sigh, the paramedic produced a touch-screen cell phone.
    “I don’t know what to do with that. Will you dial a number for me?”
    “Maybe after that I can do your nails for you too.”
    “I do need a manicure for my wedding.”
    He laughed. “What’s the number?”
    Sam rattled off Nick’s cell number, praying he’d take the call from a number he